


I Found What You Lost

by whimseyrhodes



Category: Leverage
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 18:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimseyrhodes/pseuds/whimseyrhodes
Summary: Sequel to 'Missing Something?' Eliot is still wanted by his Croatian nemesis.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I still don't own them. Dammit.
> 
> Spoilers: If you haven't read 'Missing Something?' first, I suggest you do, since there are major references to it.
> 
> A/N: 'Missing Something?' is complete, but here is a spin-off of it, since some kept begging for it. I took one of the many other ideas bouncing like Mexican jumping beans around my noggin and twisted it to fit here. Hope y'all enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
>  

It had been a long few months of recovery for Eliot after what had happened out at the Montana Skies Ranch. He had suffered bouts of dizziness and sometimes blackouts from the massive blow to his skull that resulted in a severe concussion, as well as the ever present threat of pneumonia from his near drowning. That threat never materialized fully, but enough of it had to bring on a month long battle against a nasty cough from deep in his chest and constant congestion. The long slash on his back healed slowly but steadily, and he was able to wear shirts without pain after a couple of weeks. The bone deep bruising on his ribs, hip and thigh from the horses hooves gave him the most pain. Nate and Hardison helped rub the liniment into his bruises every night, and then discreetly left him alone to battle the pain and muscle spasms that resulted. The balm helped though, and for that reason, and for the fact that Caroline had recommended it, he continued.

Leverage, Inc. turned down many job offers those first couple of months, on the grounds that it was rebuilding from the 'undetermined' explosions that leveled their former offices while Eliot stayed at the new estate, healing and exploring the extensive house and grounds.

A month after that, Leverage, Inc. took on a few clients, restricting the jobs to those with light duty for Eliot, and within five months of the incident at Montana Skies, the team was back in full swing.

 

 

"Aw, man…. Eliot, man, slow the hell down," Hardison panted as Eliot whipped around him to sink another basket.

The two men had found the basketball court in the back of the estate a couple of days after they moved in. Now that Eliot was feeling better, he was getting more than restless and had challenged Hardison to a game of pick-up.

"Dude," the hacker panted again, "Dude, just…just stop."

"Oh come on, Hardison," the specialist growled playfully, "I can't get back into shape if you keep wussin' out on me like this."

Hardison hunched over with his hands braced on his knees and cocked an eye at the shorter man who was channeling the energizer bunny. The muscles on his chest and back were well defined, and those in his legs bunched as he bounded up for another two-pointer. The bruises that had been almost black a few months ago had faded so that they were almost gone, but the hoof prints could still be seen, and the slash that had once been an angry red line of stitches had turned a pale pink in contrast to the dark tan he was getting from the sun.

Eliot landed and turned to face his opponent, sweat shining off his bare chest, his breathing just a little bit heavy. He grinned and tossed his hair back as he threw the basketball back to Hardison.

"Man, with just those long legs and arms I thought you'd put up more of a fight for the basket."

"Against you? Ha! Tryin' ta catch you is like chasin' a Tasmanian devil! Yeah, yeah, that's what I'm gonna call you now; Taz. Freakin' devil, that's what you are. All jumpin' an' spinnin' an' runnin' an' stuff."

Eliot laughed as he followed his grumbling teammate back to the shower room to wash off before the briefing.

 

 

"Eliot, wait. Oh, Eliot, slow down!" Sophie panted delicately as she jogged after him in her designer sweat suit and tennis shoes.

Eliot turned around, still bouncing from foot to foot, as he waited for her to catch up. They had decided to take a jog around the estate, but whereas Sophie thought it meant once around the track in the back, Eliot had meant 'around the entire estate'. He had run around the track beside her, then coaxed her off onto the grass beside it, then continued to meander across the lawn heading for the trees at the far edge, increasing his speed.

"Eliot, I can't," she whispered as she took deeper breaths, slowing to a walk. "You, you just go on ahead."

"Ya sure, Soph? Come on, you'll get a second wind, just keep goin'," he tried to reassure her.

"We've already," pant, "run for more," pant, "than a mile!" Pant.

Eliot just cocked a brow, and said, "Suit yourself," and headed off in a sprint, his legs churning as he covered the distance in moments. He continued to push himself harder and harder, desperate to get as strong and as fast as he could.

Sophie watched him in admiration, wondering about the depths of reserve he was building up as he worked out almost feverishly. She waved her hand delicately in front of her face as she turned and walked up the incline to the house, ready for a long hot bubble bath.

 

 

Parker gave Eliot a look that said in no uncertain terms, "there is something wrong with you."

She stood in the middle of the gym, her hands fisted on her hips, blond ponytail swinging as she just shook her head. Her breathing was labored, and she looked at the crazy man in front of her.

They had started out stretching, each getting ready for their own particular brand of exercising. Parker preferred Yoga and Pilates, as it stretched and honed the muscles, lengthening and strengthening them without getting too bulky. It helped her keep the lithe strength and grace she needed for her jobs.

Eliot preferred boxing, weights, martial arts, and other high impact, close contact exercises.

With a grin he had impulsively challenged her to a wrestling match, which he had been sure she would refuse. Parker, being Parker, had decided it would be fun to play and had accepted eagerly. At first, it was hard to keep a hold of Parker. She used all of that grace and lithe strength to keep slipping out of his arms. 'Like wrestling with an eel,' Eliot thought to himself, beginning to wonder if this was a good idea.

After accidentally jabbing him in the ribs with a sharp elbow, Parker decided it would be more fun to change it into an all-out, no-holds-barred brawl.

She wasn't too sure now that that had been a good idea.

She had elbowed him in the ribs more times than she could count, tripped him and sent him sprawling, and even kneed him in the back a couple of times, but he just kept getting up, grinning, and inviting more. He crouched across from her now, legs slightly bent, hands outstretched towards her. It was hard to believe that less than two months ago he could hardly stand, but here he was, all lean and muscular, waiting for another challenge.

So Parker decided she'd take his outstretched arms for an invitation, and launched herself straight at him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck in a huge bear hug. Surprised at the unconventional maneuver, he fell back onto the mat, with her landing on top of him.

"HA! I win!" she crowed, and bounced off of him towards her locker room before he could object.

Bemused, Eliot raised himself onto his elbows, and then laughed as he rose to his own shower.

 

 

Letters reached Eliot at the estate from The Montana Skies on a regular basis. Life went on, mares were bred and dropped their foals, and Bill had been persuaded to come back to the ranch. Carson still refused, but Eliot could understand. The boy had been young and naïve and being roughed up was something some people just couldn't handle. Even with Randy back from his mother's, the ranch was still shorthanded, so Eliot had contacted a couple of trustworthy friends who agreed to sign on, both for ranch work and for protection, though only they and Eliot knew that particular part of the job description. With Dubravko Pupojec and his goons still at large, he would do his best to protect his Montana family, even though he couldn't be there himself.

He wrote back when he could, assuring them that he was regaining his health, and insisting that they not worry about him or Pupojec. He worded it delicately, but knew Thom and George would be able to read between the lines and know that he and his team were searching for the Croatian miscreants.

Nate and Eliot had discussed in detail what Pupojec had said when he had promised that he would find Eliot again. Combining that with the seriousness of the job, (and Nathan, Alec and Sophie's incessant nagging) Eliot reluctantly agreed to have a tiny transponder placed subcutaneously behind his ear. He felt like a tagged rabbit now, especially when Hardison rattled off his whereabouts the next day, but he accepted the concern of his friends. Hardison also accepted the concern Eliot professed about his well being when he leaned over Alec's chair and whispered a succinct and scary warning to him about the dangers of magnets and computers meeting. Hardison decided that the information the transponder gave him just wasn't very interesting anymore.

 

 

About two weeks after the comment about magnets, Eliot found himself hoping that Hardison had gotten bored and was watching the transponder again. Eliot could touch it in such a way that it would set off an 'alert' signal, and he had done so ten minutes ago.

He had been staking out an abandoned warehouse district on the docks for possible use in future heists on his off time. Pre-planning like this was what enabled the team to set up such quick scams if needed. Eliot had a knack for finding buildings and office spaces that were either abandoned or for short-term lease, and would regularly gather intel on various sites.

The previous day he had walked the sixth and seventh warehouses in this particular compound, having finished the rest at an earlier date. He entered the data he had collected in his own shorthand code and had started to leave when a warning bell had sounded in his head. Silently moving to the shadows, he waited and watched for 45 minutes before letting himself relax. He had been extra careful on his exit, and still hadn't seen anything unusual but the tingling sensation on the back of his neck hadn't settled until he parked his truck in the garage at the estate.

Today he had planned on telling Nate about the internal warning he had felt the day before, but it looked like the rest of the team were off on their own errands. He left a note on Nate's temporary desk instead, and returned to the warehouses, intent on finishing his job.

An hour ago his 'Spidey' sense attacked, sending him into a dark corner. Thirty minutes ago he had heard the sound of a boat on the water south of the building. Twenty minutes ago the soft scrape of a shoe on gravel three floors below. Ten minutes ago he had managed to slide his hand to the transponder and turn on the alert. Two minutes ago a chemical bomb had exploded on the steps behind him, sending knockout gas spiraling around his feet. Thirty seconds ago he whispered, "Oh, shit," as he slumped to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, shit," Eliot whispered as he slumped to the floor.

When he woke, the Retrieval Specialist was in what looked like a glass box that was about eight feet square, with four solid, clear walls and a metal grate on the ceiling and another large one embedded into the concrete floor. He shook his head, trying to throw off the remnants of the knockout gas.

"Welcome, little smutljivac, it is good to see you again."

Suddenly furious at himself, the team, and this bastard in front of him, Eliot uncoiled like an over wound spring and launched himself at the wall in front of Dubravko, landing against it with enough force that he thought it should shatter. He was satisfied to see a little fear in the bigger man's eyes, and the other two in the room actually took a step back.

"I am sorry, Eliot, but you cannot break this shatterproof glass. Even though you have recovered considerable strength, you still are not Superman," the general pouted theatrically. "I am glad to see that the wounds we gave you have healed quite nicely." Only then did Eliot realize that he was barefoot and shirtless.

"You do remember that we made you a promise, I hope? That we could, and would return for you? My divote voditelj has placed me under his command once again, and I am here at his behest. It is only too bad that your friends from Montana could not be here to share this with you."

Eliot couldn't be more relieved that Caroline, Thom and George were still safe. It was odd, but after the incident at Montana Skies and what they had told him of their captors, Eliot actually believed that this man hadn't hurt them. Twisted though it was, this Croatian seemed to have a sense of honor that prohibited him from lying or doing collateral damage to anyone his leader had not instructed him to.

"I trust you remember one of our little games, do you not?"

Eliot wasn't sure what he was talking about until a great gush of water poured into the cube and started filling his prison.

"You bastard!" Eliot yelled angrily as he punched the wall in frustration, "What the hell do you guys want from me?!"

"We have told you already, dear Eliot. Only your suffering," the man's dark eyes smiled as he watched the water quickly rise past Eliot's knees. "Oh, I do hope you know how to swim? Although, it will be not much good to you, I fear."

The water swirled around his thighs, then his hips, and the young man furiously remembered the last time he had been in this similar situation. He grimaced and his lips twitched as he frantically looked for a way out.

He pounded on the glass in front of Dubravko and growled, "I will kill you."

"You may try," the general purred as he saw that Eliot had noticed a blinking red dot in the background. "Oh yes, I forgot to tell you to smile for the camera."

Eliot hoped that they weren't recording this in order to send to Caroline and Thom, or putting it online as a real-time video. Although it may help Hardison (who he really hoped was tracking him right now) find out where he was, he still didn't want anyone to watch this.

The water was past his waist now, and although he could swim quite well and actually enjoyed it, he failed to see that his skill would help him for long, since the grate was only a few feet above his head. He scanned the welds of the grate edges, but to his dismay they seemed solid.

The water played against his chest, gently lifting him up in its waves. He started to slowly tread water as the water level continued to rise, and glared down at Dubravko when the top of his head bumped against the grate.

He threaded his fingers around the gate and tried to push, but there was nothing he could brace himself against except water, so he quickly gave up and started to hyperventilate, drawing as much oxygen into his blood as he could before the water closed over his head.

Eliot continued to hang from the grate as the water rushed over the top, hoping that like last time, they would let him up for air again. He scowled at Dubravko as the man just stood there. A few bubbles escaped, and he closed his eyes tight, concentrating on ignoring the pain in his lungs. Opening his blue eyes again, he bared his teeth as the general just smiled.

Soon his scowl changed into a grimace of pain and desperation, and just before he had to take a breath, he heard a drain open in the floor and the water level dropped three inches, just enough for him to gasp in fresh air.

"No!" He couldn't help himself from yelling as the water flowed back in. One deep gasp was all he had time for before the water covered him again. This time Eliot let his body float down in front of Dubravko and placed his hands on the glass. He let all of his fury and passion fill his face as he mouthed one word: DIE.

Dubravko's men started arguing then; to them Eliot looked like an angel of death, floating in the water with his long hair flowing around his face, utter contempt and the promise of retribution written in every glare.

The dark eyed man would not allow anyone to see it, but he was beginning to wonder if they weren't right in their comparison. He knew without a doubt that given any opportunity, no matter how small, this man would kill him. However, his loyalties were strong and his orders clear; he was not to kill the easterner today.

 

 

Nate walked into his temporary office and bumped against his desk, sending papers and notes onto the floor. Distracted by what Sophie was saying to him over the phone, he shuffled them into a pile and placed them on the corner of the desk again, Eliot's note upside down on the top.

Hardison flicked on the computer screen and looked up as Nathan walked in the door, still distractedly talking to Sophie on the telephone. Alec moved over to his laptop and logged online, initializing his World of Warcraft Horde character, eager to try the newest expansion pack. The red dot that indicated Eliot's distress flashed madly in the corner of the other monitor, unseen.

 

 

Eliot darted like a fish up to the top again, his body curling up around the grate, so he ordered the water to drain again. This time he let it drain a full foot and allowed Eliot to float for a few minutes before gesturing for the water to fill once more.

Eliot rested as he could, letting himself float as the water rose, hyperventilating again but making no other movement. Any exertion used up more oxygen. As the water closed over his face, he forced his body to remain still as long as he could; pressed up against the grate and absently studying the ceiling, he tried to think of anything other than the air he was being denied.

Soon though, his body started to twitch, and his legs drew back as his hands clenched around the grate. As with the last time they had nearly drowned him, they waited until he couldn't stand it anymore and took a reflexive breath. Water burned into his lungs and his body thrashed against the grate. Another breath and stars danced at the edges of his blackening vision. He felt the water start to drain and threw his head back to get air, but only succeeded in smashing the back of his skull against the metal grate. Dazed, he floated on the water as it rapidly drained out the huge overflow that Dubravko had opened. Eliot's body thudded onto the cement none too gently and that caused him to convulse and arch over onto his side, vomiting up the water in his lungs.

He lay on the cold metal floor with his eyes closed, shivering, hoping that they would think him unconscious.

 

 

Parker and Sophie returned from their 'errand' of shopping, Sophie happily breezing by with six shopping bags from designer stores on her arms. Parker dropped her single paper bag on the table beside Hardison's computer and glanced curiously at the red dot that was furiously blinking in the corner of the screen.

"What's this?" she asked blandly.

"Huh? Wha? Probably nuthin'," Hardison said distractedly.

"But it's blinking," she insisted.

Certain that it was just something shiny that had caught her attention, Hardison got up off the couch, still holding his laptop. He glanced up and dropped the laptop, shoving her aside as he jumped into the chair.

"NATE!" he yelled, "We got trouble!"

Nathan ran into the room just as the hacker transferred what he was working on to the main screen they had set up in the corner.

"Eliot's transponder is goin' off, looks like it was activated….oh, shit."

"When?!" Nathan roared.

"Uh, two hours ago," Alec cringed.

"Why didn't you….!"

"Nathan, I found a note from Elio….." Sophie interrupted, but stopped when she saw the look Nate was giving Hardison.

When he heard Eliot's name mentioned, he grabbed the note from her.

"Nate," it read, "got a funny feeling down at the docks yesterday. I'm gonna check it out, but keep an eye out. Eliot."

"Shit, we all dropped the ball."

"Uh, guys?" Hardison asked in a small voice, "I think we need to look at this. It's a video attached to an email labeled 'I Found What You Lost'."

Remembering the hideous phone call they had received five months ago, Nate nodded and Hardison opened the attachment with dread.

It was a real-time video feed from inside a warehouse building with a water filled glass cube in the center. They could see a body clad only in jeans floating near the top and knew without a doubt that it was Eliot. They watched in horror as Eliot's body convulsed, fists pounding against the top of the cube, his legs flailing in the water. The water level dropped about a foot, and they watched as Eliot thrashed until his head made hard contact with the lid of the container. He went limp, and then the water gushed out into an overflow drain, and as the water level fell, so did Eliot until he was dropped harshly onto the ground. The team watched as Eliot spasmed and rolled over, vomiting water out of his lungs with great coughs. Then he lay still.

"Hardison, are you…?"

"Already all over it boss, it's a real time feed, so it's happenin' NOW. I'm tracking his transponder and crossing it with the location of the feed, and…yup, they match. I got an address."

"Then let's go!"

 

 

Eliot must have passed out for a few moments; when he opened his eyes, he found Dubravko crouching down, looking nearly into his eyes.

"Good. Good, you are awake. Now we continue."

The young specialist groggily moved his head from side to side, wondering what the Croatian meant. It took him only moments to see the cables that were now attached to the ceiling grate. He already knew that there was a metal frame inside the glass cage and his heart leaped into his throat.

He didn't have any more time than that before Dubravko himself flipped the switch to activate the current.

Instantly Eliot's body jerked, his heels drumming on the floor and his head banging in a matching rhythm.

Dubravko turned off the current and Eliot relaxed, his muscles still twitching.

"Hmmm, that seemed a very small current; we shall turn it up, yes?"

He flipped the switch again and Eliot's teeth snapped shut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin as he convulsed. Pain rocketed through every nerve ending, setting his skin on fire.

It seemed like years before the general turned off the machine again. Eliot lay panting on the floor, his ears ringing.

Dimly he heard the general talking, whether to him or to his companions, he wasn't too sure.

He had started to roll to his right side when the current was activated again, making his body arch and trapping him in a rictus of agony. His eyelids fluttered as his eyes rolled halfway back into his skull; a blood vessel broke in his right eye covering the whites with red. Blood started to flow from his nose, joining with that from his split lip to pool on the wet floor beneath him.

Stuttering moans forced their way out from between his clenched teeth.

The voltage stopped, and the exhausted man dropped his head to the floor, little stars spraying across his blurry vision. He lay shivering and curled up on his side, having given up trying to remember why he had tried to move in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

"Nate, man, there's somethin' wrong with Eliot's transponder, it's like it's fritzin' out or somethin'," Hardison said to Nathan as they sped down the Interstate towards the warehouse district.

"What are you talking about?"

But Alec had toggled from the transponder map to the live feed and could only watch in mute horror as he saw Eliot being electrocuted repeatedly.

"Hardison!" This command was accompanied by a slap on the back of the head to get his attention. He realized that Nate must have been calling his name for some moments.

"Uh, I, uh, I figured out why the transponder isn't working, but the address hasn't, um…..hasn't changed."

Nate drove as fast as he could down the exit ramp and banked the SUV into a hard left so sharply that the two inside wheels actually came off of the ground for a few moments. Then they bounced back into contact and he slammed his foot onto the accelerator again. He could hear what was happening to Eliot, although he couldn't see it, and he blamed himself for not being on his A-game when Eliot needed them.

 

 

The cruel current was increased and Eliot given no chance to rest as the switch was turned on again. He had been through this in the past, but never had the voltage been set so high. He screamed as agony flared through his body, nerves on fire and every touch was pure torture. He knew everyone had a breaking point, one at which they would sell their own mothers just to stop the pain, and he was beyond it. If Dubravko had wanted information, he would have given it. If Dubravko had ordered him to slaughter the team, he would have done it. If Dubravko had demanded loyalty, he would have promised it oh please just stopthepainstopitnowohpleaseohgod!

He couldn't feel the pain in his own body now, he was floating above it. He knew he was convulsing in a fit, screaming, his feet pounding the concrete and blood flowing into his hair from the many cuts on his head.

The switch was turned off and he felt himself viciously yanked from above his body back into the husk that was shivering and twitching on the ground.

Voices in the background, then clanging as someone dropped to the ground beside him. He felt them pry his jaws open and shove something into his mouth. Intellectually he knew that this was his chance to break for freedom, but all of his nerve endings were fried; he tried to command his body to move but all it did was lay there and twitch.

Eliot didn't know if what he was hearing was right at all. His thoughts were so jumbled, slipping out of reach just as he started to touch them. There were muffled voices which seemed to come from outside of the glass cube, but he heard people moving right next to him too. He felt a large presence beside him and heard a deep bass chuckle, and then more banging and thumping, and then the caustic agony was back.

 

 

Nate and the others gasped in horror at the sight of the ghastly cube in front of them. Sure, they had seen it on the video feed, but in person it was a thousand times worse. To the left of the cube was a long table with computers and generators hooked up to masses of cables that snaked all over the floor in every conceivable direction.

In the center of the glass prison in front of them laid Eliot, soaking wet and shaking. His left leg was tucked up underneath his right and he lay slightly on his left side, his arms spread. In his mouth was a black rubber mouth guard that was used by doctors who performed Electro Convulsive Therapy so their patients wouldn't choke on their own tongues. Beside him was Dubravko, descending into the tunnels below through the grate in the concrete floor.

He paused and looked at them, grinning madly.

"You probably want to hurt me very much, I think. Yes? But you will have to wait for your chance. Now your chance is to save young Eliot, here," he gloated as he held up a small remote control. "I will give you the rules, and then you may decide his fate. In order to save him, you must stay where you are, all four of you, for ten minutes while I and my comrades escape. Every 30 seconds or so, there will be a test that you each must perform. Watch the computer screen and follow directions."

He made as if to descend. "Although, you may try to catch me if you like, but by then, your Eliot will be dead. Good bye." And with that, he dropped out of sight, and the metal grate was slid shut once more.

The team watched the computer screen and it lit up.

5….4….3….2….1…..

A light started blinking on the generator and suddenly Eliot's body arched and shook as the current once more arced through him. His scream was muffled from the gag in his mouth, but they all knew he was in tremendous agony.

"Nate!" Sophie screamed.

"Hardison, what do we do?!" Nathan asked the computer genius.

Hardison looked at the screen, and said, "Our fingerprints! Here!" he indicated. "Nathan, yours is first!"

Nathan pressed his index finger onto the screen where Hardison had told him to. The generator clicked and the voltage went down a little, but did not turn off.

"Sophie!" And Sophie pressed her finger onto the screen. Again the voltage decreased.

"Parker!" Parker did the same.

Now me," Hardison said as he pressed his print onto the screen. The generator finally turned off and Eliot lay still, although he was still shivering.

"Let's get him out of there!" Nate said as he started to climb the ladder to the top of the cage.

As he stepped onto the first rung, a light flashed and a second computer switched on. Dubravko's face filled the screen, and he said, "I gave you the rules, you did not listen. You must stay at the computers."

The light on the generator blinked on and Eliot convulsed again.

"Sophie! Your print first this time," Hardison yelled. Her hand shot out and pressed the computer screen.

"Nate!"

"Mine! And Parker!"

As with before, the generator shut off when the prints were entered in the correct order.

"And now you will listen, for to stay where you are and do what the computer tells you will free Eliot with no more harm," Dubravko's image said. "To move away or interfere else, will kill him."

The second computer winked off, and the team looked at each other.

"Well, we gotta do what he says," Hardison said, "Right, boss?"

"I agree," Nathan replied. "Obviously this Dubravko has thought this out quite well. He said a test will appear every thirty seconds or so, and that we all need to complete our part. We can't be sure that it will be the same every time; in fact, these two times were different. Same prints, but different order."

Only twenty seconds had passed and the computer lit up with their next test: retinal scans in a specific sequence.

Once that was completed, the second computer came to life again.

"Ah, yes. My students have listened and done well. You see that when you wait for the test and complete it correctly, Eliot is not harmed, as I have promised. Continue to do well, and you will free him shortly."

And the computer went dark once again.

 

 

The four teammates waited at the computers as instructed. They gave fingerprints, retinal scans and voice prints. Sometimes it was done on the first computer, other times on the second. A couple of times one of them was not included in the sequence, sometimes one was included twice. All of the patterns were different and completely random.

A few minutes into the tests they heard the sound of a chopper landing nearby and knew that Dubravko and his men were beyond their reach. For now.

The wait for the ten minute limit seemed like ten hours.

Finally the computer gave them their last test, and the computers on the table began to run a self destruct program. In seconds, smoke wafted from the destroyed CPUs and the monitors died.

Overhead lights switched on, and before they could move towards the glass cage a deep rumbling could be heard.

They all looked at each other in dread, but then they saw that the front glass wall was lowering into a slit in the floor. As soon as they could hop over it, they were kneeling at Eliot's side.

"Evil though he is, Dubravko has never lied to us, and as much as I'm inclined to trust the guy," Nate said, "I want to play this safe. Let's get Eliot out of this cage as fast as we can and worry about his injuries in a few minutes."

They all saw the logic in that and immediately bent down and slid their arms under the younger man's body, lifting him smoothly and quickly. As a unit they hurried to the far side of the warehouse where they had parked their vehicle, and laid him gently onto the ground to assess his condition.


	4. Chapter 4

The four team members gently laid Eliot down on the ground next to the truck. Nate pried his jaws open and removed the offending black mouthpiece and flung it behind him. Blood flowed slowly from the younger man's split lip and nose. Nate's hands were bloody and since he had been holding Eliot's head, he gently palpated for injuries there. A few cuts and gashes, nothing very deep. Parker, Sophie and Hardison each checked Eliot for obvious injuries, but no one found any, although he was still shivering badly. The physical trauma they would be dealing with then would be from the near-drowning, electrocution and possible pneumonia, though they would work hard to keep that from happening.

Sophie opened the side door of the SUV and Nate climbed in to sit on one of the passenger seats. Hardison, Parker and Sophie lifted Eliot up to the door, and Nate guided him onto the seat beside him, ending up with Eliot half cradled in his lap. Hardison handed Nathan a blanket and they wrapped it around Eliot as well as they could.

"Let's go home, guys," Nate said softly.

 

 

As they drove back to their rented estate, rather more slowly than they had left, Nathan held Eliot's shaking form closely. His mind kept wandering back to when he had stepped on that first ladder rung and triggered the switch that sent the current through Eliot. It was his fault that he had been tortured so badly. If only he had listened! That psycho Dubravko had come up with an ingenious plan of escape, making them stay and play his little games while Eliot shook with pain in his little glass prison. Nate remembered listening to his soft wheezing breaths, watching his chest rise shakily each time, hoping that Eliot would 'just keep breathing'.

The hitter was calmer now, the shaking was almost gone but every now and again he would shiver violently for a few moments, during which Nate would tighten his hold and murmur encouragement into his ear, and the shaking would subside.

Hardison pulled into the garage and shut off the SUV, and he and the two women got out. Sophie and Parker went into the house to ready Eliot's room as Nate and Hardison unloaded Eliot and gently carried him into the house.

When they had moved in to the estate, everyone had had plenty of suites to choose from. Sophie chose one of the most opulent, with a bedroom, living room/kitchenette and a huge bathroom. Parker's was the one on the highest floor, Hardison's had the most electrical outlets and hardware, and Nate's was right across from Sophie's. Eliot had chosen one of the smaller suites on the (thankfully) ground floor. His only had a large bedroom/sitting room combination with a fireplace and full bathroom facilities.

When they entered Eliot's room, they saw that Sophie had turned down the bed and was gathering towels. Parker was in the bathroom going through Eliot's well stocked medicine cabinet.

Sophie directed them to lay Eliot on the chaise lounge in front of the fireplace that she had covered with a thick blanket. They laid him down carefully. Parker came up with a bowl of warm water, and Nathan began to wash the blood off of Eliot's face and neck. Sophie knelt at Eliot's head and smoothed his hair, and, finding her hand covered in his blood, took a washcloth and began washing his hair tenderly.

As she coaxed the blood out of the silken chestnut locks, he moved his head slightly. His eyes opened for a brief minute, not focusing on anything, and then drifted shut. But that short moment was all Sophie needed to see what had happened to his eye.

"Nathan," she spoke up, "there's something wrong with his right eye."

Nate gently pried Eliot's right eye open and looked at the bloody whites.

"Nothing's wrong, he just blew a blood vessel. It's nothing major; some people do it just by blowing their nose."

"Are you sure?" She still looked worried.

"He's right," Parker piped up, launching into chatterbox mode, "did it myself. But not blowing my nose, of course. That'd just be silly. Not to mention messy. I was in Athens once, well, not once, I mean, I'd been there before, lots of times. Anyway, I was lifting an urn from the Museum of Natural…"

"I'm sure Nate's right," Hardison interrupted the incipient ramble, "Man, I betcha Eliot's done it hundred's a' times, all them faces he smashes."

 

 

Eliot moved just below the level of consciousness. He felt hands on his body, but instead of trying to fight, he stopped and thought about it, knowing that these wouldn't hurt him. It had been a long time since he could allow other's hands touch him without suspicion. He was beginning to realize that not all hands held pain, especially these, so he made himself relax and let them tend to his aching body.

He drifted then, sometimes coming close enough to hear their voices, then letting them soothe him back under to the comforting darkness where the pain subsided.

 

 

After Nathan and Sophie had finished cleaning the blood from Eliot's body, Hardison helped Nate strip off the younger man's jeans. The wet denim was difficult to remove, but soon they had them off, and Sophie and Parker toweled his chilled legs dry. Lifting him up once again, they carried him to the bed and laid him onto the soft mattress and then tucked the down comforter (Nate was sure it came from Sophie's room) around him.

As at the Montana Skies Ranch, the rest of the team then ensconced themselves in the chairs and chaises of the room, waiting for Eliot to return to the waking world. Hardison worked on his laptop, Nate and Sophie talked quietly in the corner, and Parker brought in her new plant and sat on the floor talking to it. Hardison thought about giving her a funny look, then shook his head, giving his attention back to the monitor in his lap.

The others thought the hacker was working on the World of Warcraft he always talked about, but they couldn't be farther from the truth. Ever since he had seen Eliot first convulsing from the electric torture on his screen, Hardison had been aching to track down his torturer. When they had been in the warehouse, he had been sure he could hack through their system and get Eliot out earlier than the ten minutes demanded by Dubravko, and maybe even catch the bastard. After Nate had stepped on the ladder, however, he wasn't willing to try. He had watched Eliot thrash on the floor, moaning, as the current ripped through him and prayed over and over again for it to stop. When it finally had, he had split his attention between the computer screens (because he knew Nate trusted him to tell them what to do next) and Eliot (because that's what he really needed to see). He needed to watch Eliot breathe, to make sure he was still alive.

So now he sat concentrating on his codes, fingers flying over the keyboard. He hacked and rerouted through, past, and around security systems all over the world, waltzed through back doors, hunted for easter eggs and back-traced passwords like he had never done in the past. He was going to find Dubravko.

Hours went by, and they gave in to their hunger and called Chun's Tea House and ordered Chinese for delivery. They all sat on pillows around a low end table as they ate in Eliot's room, unwilling to leave him alone even for a few minutes to eat.

Every once in a while they would hear the blankets rustling, and one of them (usually Nate) would get up and go to Eliot's side. After a few soft words and gentle touches, he would settle and drift deeper into sleep.

 

 

Blackness.

Pain.

Fire.

PAIN

Eliot tensed as another lightning strike arced through his muscles, making them tense and spasm. He heard screaming in the background. Was someone else here? Had Dubravko captured another of the team? He tried to look around for them, but he saw only blackness.

The pain was intensifying. He started to open his mouth to scream only to realize he was already screaming.

 

 

Parker was sitting on the bed next to Eliot, Indian style and facing him, when he started to toss his head and moan softly. She leaned forward and reached out her hand, hesitating a little before brushing back the hair from his forehead and resting her hand there, only slightly awkwardly. He calmed almost immediately.

She shuddered inwardly as she remembered being back in the warehouse, watching him through the glass like a dangerous, wounded animal. She had wished so hard that she could break through that glass to get to him, but she didn't even dare touch it, not after Nate had started up that ladder. So she crouched there, as close as she could, whenever she wasn't doing something at the computers, watching him intently and counting every breath. She watched his face for any awareness, never finding any. She looked at his shaking body, searching for wounds and wondering what that bastard had done to him. She waited for each test, and then bolted back to her place to count the next breaths.

Nate had looked up at Eliot's rustling, but seeing Parker sitting next to him with her hand on his forehead, he sat back. Parker was watching Eliot like he was a tangled pile of rigging that she had to figure out how to fix. Nate turned back to Sophie to continue their discussion.

A niggling question had been slipping around in the back of his mind, and he finally remembered it.

"Hardison," he said softly.

"…uh. Huh?" the computer tech asked as he was pulled off of his thought train.

"I was wondering….how did Dubravko get so much info on us? I mean fingerprints, voice prints, retinal prints for cryin' out loud?"

"Yeah, yeah, and I been thinkin' the same thing man, so I been doin' a little diggin'," Hardison said. "And…."

The pause became too much for Nate. "…And?" he prompted.

"Oh. And, I'm thinkin, maybe he didn't."

"What? What do you mean, he didn't?"

"I'm sayin', maybe he didn't. Look, fingerprints are easy, we all got jackets, they're easy to hack. Voice prints, I mean, maybe he got one of those long-range microphones, maybe he had people with mini-recorders get in our faces for a snatch of sound-bite, I dunno, but it can be done. What got me were the retinal scans."

Parker and Sophie were listening to the conversation raptly. "And what did you figure out?" Sophie's rich voice asked.

"I think instead of verifying them, he actually took them. We all did those scans more than once….be easy to program the computer to do an initial scan, then a double-check on the next tests."

"Why would he do that?" Parker asked, tilting her head.

"I dunno, and I don't wanna know. All I can think of is that the dude's bad news and I wanna cancel his subscription."

"If he actually took our retinal prints," Nate said, pondering, "I can only think of one thing. It will come into play in his next game."

"Can we forfeit that one, man?" Alec asked.

"If we do, Eliot may pay the price. We just have to be more vigilant and try to make sure the next 'game' never even starts."

 

 

A couple of hours later, Eliot began to move his head back and forth, starting to come to wakefulness. Parker still sat on the bed next to him, and the others came up to the side.

Eliot's eyelids fluttered halfway open, then closed a few times before he seemed to have the strength to keep them open. Blurry blue eyes regarded them for a moment before he tentatively licked his lips.

Knowing that he wanted to say something, Nate forestalled with a glass of water that he held up to the younger man's lips. Eliot gratefully took a small sip, sighing in relief as it slid down his raw and wounded throat.

"Whatcha' all doin'?" he rasped, wincing at the razors that felt lodged in his throat. "Cain't a man rest in his own bed without bodyguards?"

"Well, there's gratitude for ya," Hardison huffed theatrically. A sly grin tweaked the corner of Eliot's mouth as the tall man ranted. "We been workin' non-stop to rescue your ungrateful skinny ass and then all y'all do is lay in bed bitchin' 'bout it."

"Thanks, guys," Eliot said softly.


	5. Chapter 5

Eliot finally managed to convince the others that he would be alright if left alone for the night. They weren't completely reassured, but realized that the retrieval specialist needed his space. Only after he agreed to keep his door open did they relent, and then they meandered out into the hall and to their own bedrooms to finally sleep, even though dawn was breaking outside.

Grateful that he had had the foresight to install light-blocking curtains; Eliot let himself sink back into the soft pillows to rest, allowing the extra feather mattress to gently support his battered body.

Instinctively he began cataloguing his injuries. His head ached from pounding into the floor repeatedly, but he dismissed the thought of concussion. He vaguely remembered hearing Sophie say something about a bloody eye and dismissed that as well, knowing that it was simply a capillary that had burst and there was nothing to do but wait until it healed. In the meantime, it wouldn't affect his vision at all. His jaw hurt from clenching his teeth from the electrocution, but a few applications with ice would set that right. If he could find the motivation to get out of bed and get some. Thinking on it, he decided to just live with it.

He found himself focusing on the minor injuries of aches and bruises before he realized that he was shying away from the effects of electrocution and another near-drowning. His body still tingled from the electrical currents, but as he concentrated on them he found they were diminishing. Every once in a while they would sneak up on him and he would tremble for a moment, but he was able to keep from making any sound, riding it out until it passed.

His lungs and chest hurt fiercely. He remembered how it had felt after Dubravko had caught him the first time, and worried that this time was worse. He had only just recovered from the first non-voluntary introduction to breathing water, and he hoped that he wouldn't get anything worse than a bad cold.

Satisfied that there was nothing he could do for the moment but rest, he closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.

 

 

Even though they had been up for a day and night straight since rescuing Eliot and staying at his side until he regained consciousness, the rest of the team did not sleep soundly. Nate and Parker found themselves walking together towards Eliot's room, and after stopping in to make sure he was sleeping comfortably, they made their way to the kitchen with the excuse that they were just hungry and had only been getting up for a snack and that checking on Eliot was just on the way. Eliot's room was in the opposite direction from the kitchen, but neither of them mentioned that.

Parker jumped up after eating her sandwich and hopped out of the kitchen, leaving Nate to clean up the few crumbs. He did so, and then headed back to his room, catching sight of Sophie heading into Eliot's room just as he rounded the hall to his own. A bit later he heard her returning to her own room adjacent to his, closing the door, and turning on a classical music CD, its soft and gentle strains soothing him to sleep.

Eliot slept for more than twenty hours. No one was particularly worried, except when Parker started to show signs of getting bored. She prowled around Eliot's room, playing with the various weapons she found stashed in odd places.

Finally, when Parker had yelped for the third time, nearly slicing her hand with the current sharp and shiny, Nate shooed her from the room. He understood her desire to be close in case Eliot woke up and needed something, but he didn't really want her to wake him up because she had skewered herself with something.

 

 

Late on the third night, Eliot woke up with a measure of lucidity. Having ascertained that it was his bladder that told him that he'd better visit the little boy's room quickly at the risk being quite embarrassed, he slowly levered himself upright. Someone had foreseen the possibility of him awakening in the night, and had therefore left a small nightlight by the bed, and another in the bathroom, the door of which was thankfully open. Eliot sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, giving his body a chance to realize that it was in a vertical position, and then carefully transferred his weight to his legs. Satisfied that they would keep him from faceplanting on the carpet, he slowly shuffled to the bathroom.

After finishing what originally led him there, he began to feel a bit warm. He leaned against the wall for a moment, the heat rising quickly in his neck and face. Suddenly overwhelmed by the need to retch, he fell to his knees and braced his right arm against the toilet seat and wrapped his left around his aching chest as he heaved. Somewhere between the bouts of uncontrollable sickness, he was able to thank God that he had already flushed. A dry chuckle tried to come forth, but all that it resulted in was another round of vomiting.

After what seemed like an hour, he finally realized he was done. Shaking with weakness and reaction, he flushed the toilet again and hauled himself up, turning to the sink and running cool water to rinse out his mouth. The water felt so good that he dipped a washcloth in and, bending over to rest on the edge of the counter, laid it on the back of his neck for a moment. He repeated this several times.

Dully, he realized that he was only getting warmer, not cooler, with the application of wet cloths. Deep in the back of his mind a tiny alarm sounded, prodding him to seek help. A year ago, that alarm would have been resoundingly squashed and permanently silenced, but in the last few months he had been giving in to it little by little. The small allowances that he made for the rest of the team had not been thrown back in his face, making him less and less wary of being thrown out to fend for himself. Knowing by now that the rest were able, and in fact eager, to help, he turned to exit the bathroom fully intent on seeking their assistance. However, his drastically depleted strength chose at that time to finally give out on him.

Halfway to the door of the bathroom his legs collapsed and he fell to the floor. He had a moment to revel in the delicious cool of the ceramic tiles before darkness claimed him once again.

 

 

Hardison was up just before dawn, eager to resume his hacking. He had left numerous sleeper programs on several key systems in order to ferret out information concerning Dubravko, and was more excited than a kid at Christmas to see what kinds of gifts they left for him. First things first though, he went to check on the man those programs were intended to help.

Passing Nathan in the hall, he entered Eliot's room and saw that the bed was empty. Hoping that the hitter had just answered the call of nature, he walked to the bathroom door and knocked softly.

"Hey man, don' mean to be bustin' about your business, but, uh, you are just, uh, takin' care of it, right? Um, business, I mean?"

He waited, cringing, for the scathing response that Eliot would fling, but received only silence.

"Hey, Eliot man, answer me. I mean, I don' wanna be breakin' inta anything, if ya know what I mean…."

Still silence.

"Okay dude, I'm gonna open the door. I'm givin' ya warnin', so don't be jumpin' on me with the hittin' and smackin' and stuff…."

Hardison took a deep breath, ready to start running if he indeed interrupted anything, and opened the door a crack. He gasped and flung it wide open when he saw Eliot sprawled facedown, unconscious on the tile.

"Nate!" he called over his shoulder as he dashed to the specialist's side, his hand darting out to the pulse in his neck. Finding it thready and fast, he also noted that Eliot's skin was over-warm and wet with sweat.

Nathan arrived in moments, shocked to see Eliot lying on the floor with Hardison kneeling next to him. The hacker held a digital thermometer in his hands, and looked worried when he read the temperature to Nate.

"104.3."

"We've got to get his temperature down now. Hardison, get the water running in the shower, no warmer than room temperature for right now, we don't want to shock his system."

As the other man turned on the water and started regulating the temperature, Nathan rolled Eliot onto his back and gripped him under the arms, then dragged him towards the shower. The stall had no lip on the edge; it simply started a slight decline so the water naturally flowed into the drain, which saved Eliot from a rather nasty scrape along his recently healed back.

Laying the specialist down on the slick floor of the shower, Nate took the hand held sprayer from Hardison and directed the water onto Eliot. After a few moments, he indicated for Hardison to lower the temperature. Ten minutes later and cooler water yet, he reached for the digital thermometer and took Eliot's temperature again.

"103.8, it's down, but not enough. Lower the temp a bit more, and can you reach those washcloths?"

Alec turned the water temperature down more, and handed Nate one of the cloths he had indicated. Previously he had avoided spraying Eliot's face, but now he placed the cloth over the younger man's eyes so that he wouldn't get water in his eyes should he wake up and turned his head so the water wouldn't run into his nose. That done, Nathan drenched Eliot's hair and then sprayed across his chest and up his neck.

"Good Lord, what happened?"

Both of the men were startled at the soft British voice. Nate recovered first and said "Sophie, get that featherbed off Eliot's bed; with this fever he doesn't need to sink into that extra fabric. Then cover it with some towels again. And have Parker get some ice packs, wrap them in towels." He included the young thief's instructions because he saw the blond head peeking out from behind Sophie.

When he turned back to his duties, Hardison already had the thermometer ready.

"103.1. It's coming down well now," Nate said, "A little more and we can get him back to the bed. Hopefully the ice packs will keep it down longer. I'll have to check in with Dr. Daniels at the clinic and see what he'll recommend."

 

 

An hour later Eliot was dried off and settled back in the bed, lightly covered with a sheet, his head and chest elevated on pillows. They had wrapped ice packs and tucked them against his sides, along his inner thighs and around his ankles. Dr. Daniels had recommended azithromycin, which Parker found in Eliot's large store of medical supplies. Shortly after her raid on his medicine cabinet, Eliot woke long enough to take the pills, then sank back into restless sleep.

The next two days were a blur to the young hitter as he fought the fever, coughing and bouts of nausea. He would lie listlessly on the bed as one of his teammates tried to keep him cool with fans, ice packs and cool cloths only to toss painfully as another round of coughing would hit, trying to curl up around his aching chest. He would be held upright over the bucket held in front of him, but his retching would invariably be only dry heaves, since he hadn't been able to keep anything down for days. After a while, he would relax a little and be able to lay down to rest, until another catch in his throat would make him gasp. That would set off more coughing, and the wet rattle in his chest worried them more than they would admit.

Finally they called Dr. Daniels to come and assess his condition. Worried about the young man's dehydration and wheezing, he prescribed an intravenous drip of nutrients and antibiotics. Finding that his oxygen saturation was less than 90, he decided to utilize the oxygen he had brought along as a precaution. After the doctor had inserted the IV and adjusted the oxygen mask for Eliot, his rest seemed a little easier.

Dr. Daniels also added an expectorant with guaifenesin for the cough, in order to help Eliot cough up as much of the mucus as possible. During this time the rest of the team was to get Eliot to drink as much liquid as possible, and continue to combat the fever, which hovered steadily around 102 degrees.

By now there was a schedule of caregivers around the clock, overlapping in rotating teams of two. Since the doctor's arrival, Eliot had been lucid more often, and they were able to make him drink water and herbal teas, even though they didn't always want to stay in the company of his stomach.

 

 

Vaguely Eliot realized that his teammates were once again around him, helping him fight through this sickness. He didn't look forward to Nate and Hardison's shifts very much. Although it was somewhat amusing to listen to Hardison get on Nate's nerves (when he could muster up enough energy to actually listen), it was another matter when they had to help him cough up the crud that was accumulating in his lungs. They woke him up more often than he'd like to drink the nasty cough medicine that Dr. Daniels had prescribed, and unfortunately it did as it was supposed to and loosened the gunk in his chest. He'd feel it rattling in his lungs as he tried to breathe as shallowly as he could. Unfortunately, sooner or later it would creep up on him and he'd start a coughing fit, then Nate would lift him up to rest against his chest, his arms holding the younger man up. While Alec held that infernal bucket in front of him, he coughed until he thought he should be able to see his lungs in the bottom of the pan, but he still kept coughing. When he was done, Nate would gently wipe his mouth and lay him down against the pillows again, replacing the oxygen mask and placing a cold cloth on his neck.

Eliot hated the helplessness he felt. His body was betraying him; he could hardly move without assistance. Never before had he been so sick. Wounded, yes, plenty of times. Feverish from injuries, of course. Weak from torture, dehydration, starvation, yes – yes – and yes. But actual sickness, well, he was blessed with an otherwise healthy immune system when it came to that. Therefore this experience was unique, both in the sense that he had never endured it, and that he had never had anyone to help him through it. And he found that, since it had to be endured, at lease it was easier to endure with friends at his side.

The time that was spent with Parker and Sophie was surprisingly the easier of the shifts to tolerate. He was exhausted from the hours of coughing, his chest hurt unbearably and he didn't think that it would be at all relaxing to be in the company of two chattering women. His muscles ached from being overworked, but Sophie had discovered something that enabled him to rest. She had seen him rubbing at his chest after one particularly vigorous session with Nate and Alec, and got a curious expression on her face. Before Parker could ask, she dashed out of the room and returned a few moments later with a bottle in her hand. She sat on the edge of the bed and opened the bottle, spreading the oil onto her hands.

"Easy, Eliot," she said softly, "a light massage might just loosen up those tight muscles of yours."

He couldn't imagine that he would feel any better after letting her pummel him with a massage, but he didn't have the strength to argue. Her fingers started to press into the sore spots and he didn't remember any more until Nathan woke him up hours later.

 

 

"Well, his lungs sound much clearer, and his temperature is finally down to a more acceptable level. We can start to wean him off of the IV if his stomach accepts solid foods," Dr. Daniels told a grateful Nathan as he finished his exam.

It had been three days since his first visit, and the enforcer was doing much better. Although he was gaunt from lack of solid food and the hollows of his body were more pronounced, the fluids had cleared from his lungs, and with a lot of food and rest, he would quickly recover. Now that the doctor had allowed them to stop the cough medicine, Eliot would be able to sleep for an extended period of time, allowing his body to heal.

Eliot slept for another day before he woke, this time with a growling hunger. Parker brought him a bowl of chicken noodle soup, and at the murderous look on his face, quickly explained that she read someplace that chicken noodle soup was supposed to help you get better when you were sick. Because he didn't want to hurt her feelings, since she was obviously trying to help, and because he didn't have the strength to get out of bed and make something for himself, he drank the soup. Surprisingly, it filled him up more quickly than he would have expected, and he waited with dread for it to make a reappearance. When it didn't, he relaxed, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up again.

Over the next few days, he steadily regained his strength. His muscles lost their shakiness, his appetite grew, and the dark bags under his eyes began to go away.

After two weeks, he received a clean bill of health from Dr. Daniels, and gradually began to work out again, harassing Hardison on the basketball court, running laps around Sophie, wrestling with Parker and even cajoling Nate into tossing a baseball back and forth a few times.

 

 

Eliot got a phone call two months after that and quietly disappeared. There was a note on Nathan's desk that he read with obvious anger, but wouldn't tell the others what it said. He also wouldn't, or couldn't, tell them where Eliot was. The hitter returned five days later, cut up, bleeding and limping badly. When asked what had happened, all he would say was, "Dubravko won't be back."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: You know, I find it very inspiring when I have a split screen with my story on one side and Christian staring out at me from the other. *drool*


End file.
